


Smug Pillocks and Why You Can't Help But Want to Shag Them

by calrissian18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco, Auror Ron, Explicit Sexual Language, Fantasizing, Flirting with Infidelity, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Harry/Draco - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:43:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calrissian18/pseuds/calrissian18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. The scruff</p><p>2. The arse.</p><p>3. The mouth.</p><p><s>4. The sass</s>.</p><p>Well.  Maybe Ron could do without that last one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smug Pillocks and Why You Can't Help But Want to Shag Them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/gifts).



> I did totally bastardise this line from _30 Rock_ : "My Aunt Linda is brining her new boyfriend who is neither her age nor her race, and her ex-husband will also be there with his date 'alcoholism.'"
> 
> I haven't written in HP, Ron/Draco or had to Brit-pick in an age. Apologies if grievous errors were made.
> 
> knowmefirst, who is just a lovely person all around, put 'Ron/Draco drabble' on her fannish wishlist for Day 10 of the Snowflake challenge. I hope this gives her a grin!

An elbow edged its way onto the bar next to Ron.  It was pale and landed perfectly to avoid any water rings or stickiness from spilled beverages.  Which was practically a magical power at the Leaky.

The elbow was framed by a white sleeve, which had been perfectly rolled up in even strips of fabric.  Whomever this elbow belonged to, they were a bit prim and haughty no doubt.  Ron considered indulging the elbow in a barrel of Blishen’s because that ought to loosen it up some, rumple it a bit. 

He frowned at it, something about this particular elbow pulling at his memory.  “Planning to get belligerent and denigrate someone’s blood status again?” said a drawling voice from above it.

Ron blinked and followed the sleeve up to a face.  Malfoy’s stupid, pointy face.

He still had the scruff from his last undercover, darker blond and evenly spread.  It made him look kind of rugged, which Ron hated him a bit for.  He couldn’t help but want to bite it, get the fine hairs between his teeth and _tug_.  Malfoy was constantly inspiring conflicting emotions in him, like wanting to punch him in the face or tangle his fingers in his long-ish hair, yank his head back and shove his dick in him.

Ron had stopped stressing over it.  Mostly.

He swayed a bit on his seat and caught Malfoy’s smirking gaze.  Smug pillock.  “Piss.  Off,” he enunciated too carefully. 

Malfoy snorted.  He only ever did undignified things like that around Ron.  It was like they dragged _each other_ down in the muck.  And now Ron was picturing rolling around with Malfoy in the mud and rutting like two dogs in heat.  Malfoy’s grey eyes swept over him expressionlessly before looking past him to Tom.  “You and your date aren’t as cute as you think you are.”

Ron frowned, glancing at the stool on his other side but no one was even sitting next to him.  He looked back at Malfoy, brow furrowed.

Malfoy bared his teeth in a sharp grin.  “Alcoholism,” he clarified.

Ron took offense to that and he made a bold move to defend himself that almost toppled him.  That was not helping his case.  “‘M not a boozer,” he mumbled. 

Malfoy’s lip raised.  “Convincing, you are.”

Malfoy was a wanker.  Ron didn’t even know why he was bothering with him.  He resolved that he wasn’t going to anymore.  He threw back the last of his whisky and twirled the empty shot glass between his fingers, spinning it so hard it wobbled, when the hair on the back of his neck prickled. 

It was automatic to look to Malfoy as soon as he felt it.  They were both Aurors and, much as Ron claimed otherwise, Malfoy wasn’t actually shit at it.  Which meant if he was twigging something too, chances were there actually _was_ something to twig and Ron wasn’t just bladdered out of his head.

Malfoy was looking bored with the world at large and he was still drilling a hole in the back of Tom’s skull with his gaze while the innkeeper helped the party at the end of the pub.  Apparently it was just Ron then. 

Ron tried to ease out of the sudden alert state that had tensed him all over but he didn’t manage it before Malfoy noticed.  His eyes narrowed, went sharp, and his periphery started flitting around the pub, looking for whatever had put Ron so ill at ease.  After a moment, he snapped, “Well?”

Ron shrugged.  “Dunno.”  He did the same inconspicuous sweep.  It was the bloke behind them that had put him on edge, it seemed.  He was paying a bit too close attention, his eyes never straying far from Malfoy’s arse.

Malfoy followed his eye line.  “Down, Fido,” he told Ron with a scoff.  He made a show of leaning further over the bar, his trousers tightening over his arse and Ron’s mouth went dry.

The bloke stared unabashedly, as though the show was meant for him, and Ron saw him swallow like it was painful.  Ron tore his eyes away and said in a voice that scraped up and out, “Who’s that then?”

Malfoy smirked.  “The shag du jour.”  His eyes twinkled.  “He’s a toff, fit, and fucks like he’s feral.”

“What can I get you lads, then?” Tom asked, finally puttering over.

Malfoy smiled sharply at him.  “The last five minutes of my life back, you doddering old fool.  Until you get hands on a Time Turner, however, I’ll take a Blishen’s.”

Malfoy was looking to get pissed then.  That was unlike him.

“You shouldn’t antagonise people who have access to your libations, Auror Malfoy,” Tom said back tonelessly.

Theirs was an odd, bitchy relationship.  Ron didn’t pretend to understand it and he had no idea if they even liked each other behind all the hateful bluster.  They seemed to like snarking at each other well enough regardless.

“You wouldn’t dare poison me, Tom,” Malfoy said sweetly, “not with Auror Weasley right here.  Crap as he is, he’s still likely to notice that much.  Especially if you admit to it beforehand.” 

Tom gave Ron a doubtful look.

Ron glowered at him.  He looked back at the bloke that was still eyeing Malfoy’s trouser hams – an expression he would never stop adoring or using fruitfully – and frowned at him.  His eyes looked dark, almost black, in the pub’s low light.  “He looks soulless,” Ron decided.

Tom set Malfoy’s drink down on the bar and refilled Ron’s.

Malfoy shrugged.  Another massively non-aristocratic gesture that Ron could lower him to.  “Well naturally.  If you’ve all that going for you; it’s difficult to find the space to shove a pesky old soul.”  Malfoy’s lip curled.  “Or much of a personality.”  He threw back his shot.

Tom refilled it almost instantly.

“Classy,” Ron told him, wrinkling his nose.  He was talking about Malfoy’s boyfriend but he didn’t really care if Malfoy attributed it to the drink. 

Malfoy grinned, sly and slow.  “Jealousy is a good look on you.  I’m sure he’d stick his dick in you if you were up for it.”

Ron shook his head, it going places it shouldn’t, places with mouthy blond prats and stuff getting rammed up his arse.  He shifted on his stool.  “Yer disgustin’.”

“And you sound like that half-giant oaf,” Malfoy told him gleefully. 

“Merlin’s knickers, you’re hateful,” Ron said under his breath, rubbing his forehead.

Malfoy perked a blond brow at him.  “Why are you here, Weasley?” he asked seriously.  “Go home to your little wife and play house.  You’re depressing us beautiful, single people.”

“We’re not married,” Ron grumbled.

Malfoy sniffed.  “That’s all you got out of that then?”

Ron drank his shot slow, letting the alcohol burn through him, twist down into him.  “She’s preggers,” he said flatly. 

Malfoy tipped his chin.  “Condolences.”

“I hate you.”

“Well this doesn’t exactly look like a celebration,” Malfoy pointed out.

“It’s not,” Ron admitted.  He hunched up his shoulders.  Neither he _nor_ Hermione were particularly thrilled.  It had taken them both off-guard.  They felt like sprogs themselves and Ron was still regularly fantasising about getting fucked by the bloke to his right and running around to pubs with Harry till the wee hours.  They were kids and they were slated to have one.  He wasn’t prepared for that.  None of them were.  “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Malfoy nodded, sharply, once.  “I know, you’re a miserable failure.”

“I hate you,” Ron reiterated.

Malfoy nudged into Ron’s shoulder with his own and it might have been the friendliest thing he’d ever done.  It made Ron want to fuck him or get fucked by him, whatever was on offer, about a thousand times more desperately.  “Makes perfect sense,” Malfoy drawled easily, “I’m nothing but cruel to you.  If you liked me, I’d worry about your mental health.”  He side-eyed Ron.  “More than I already do, that is.”

Tom refilled his drink again.  Ron hadn’t even gotten to watch Malfoy’s throat work that one down, he’d been so deep in his own head.  He wondered if Malfoy would work his cock over half as diligently.  Ron cleared his throat, noticing an abrupt movement in his periphery.  “I think soulless bloke is getting blue balls waiting for you.”

Malfoy looked back at the bloke in question, downed his drink, and started to straighten up.  He was going to leave and shag soulless bloke’s brains out.

“Do you know Harry used to wank over you when we were in school?” Ron blurted out, eyes widening. 

Malfoy settled back in as though he’d never meant to leave and said with cheeky curiosity, “Using a picture or his imagination?”

Which was literally the last response Ron might’ve expected to get to that.  “I don’t bloody well know, you pervert.  I didn’t grill my best mate on his wanking habits, he was just a little forgetful with his _Silencing_ charms.”  He’d heard Harry gasp the word ‘ _Malfoy_ ’ far too often between fourth and sixth year.  He’d never expected he would _tell Malfoy_ about it though.  Harry was going to AK him if he ever found out.

Malfoy’s brows shot up, challenging.  “I’m the pervert when you’re the one who raised the subject?”  His curiosity deepened and he grinned slyly.  “Does he still?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Ron burst out, embarrassed and red-faced, “why do you care?”

“Because I’d prefer he used a picture,” Malfoy quipped, as though it was a perfectly ordinary thing to say.  “His imagination could distort the perfection that is the Malfoy allure and _that_ would be a travesty.”  He affected an exaggerated frown.

“I really don’t like you,” Ron groused, throwing back another drink.  He noticed the casual way Malfoy was leaning against the bar.  He didn’t seem the least bit put off.  “You don’t seem particularly surprised,” Ron noted.  He’d expected the revelation would throw Malfoy, at least a bit.

“Mmm, no,” Malfoy agreed.  He turned back to Ron, looking genuinely surprised that Ron had expected him to be.  “Should I be?  It’s all a bit cliché, isn’t it?  The Golden Boy who never does anything for himself falling for the Slytherin bad boy? It’s the very definition of forbidden fruit.”

Ron bit his lip.  So.  He’d betrayed a confidence Harry didn’t even know Ron had – he’d meant it about not grilling his best mate about his wanking habits – all so Malfoy wouldn’t walk off and shag the skeevy bloke staring at his arse.  That pretty much solidified that this attraction to Malfoy had mutated into full-blown infatuation.  At the very least.

He couldn’t thrust up against the crack of Malfoy’s arse with his half-hard dick, not with dark eyes watching them, but he could lick his lower lip and look pointedly at Malfoy’s crotch.  He felt bolder than he actually was when he said, “And what would that make me?”

Malfoy’s lips quirked up.  He leaned forward, lowering his voice, and said, “Infinitely more interesting.”  He pulled back and Ron saw him wind his way through the pub to a corner table with the toff he was with.

Ron grinned to himself.  Malfoy was staying then.  He switched to water when Tom tried to pour him another.  He was certainly going to need his wits about him so he could follow Malfoy to the loo and fuck him in the toilets at the first opportunity.


End file.
